


Broken

by Athelska



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Angst, Brothers, Castiel Asks Questions (Supernatural), Castiel Has Doubts (Supernatural), Complete, Demons, Doubt, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Episode: s04e16 On the Head of a Pin, Fallen Angels, Friendship, Gen, Hell, Hurt, Hurt Dean Winchester, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Psychological Trauma, Torture, Torturer Dean Winchester, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26060296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athelska/pseuds/Athelska
Summary: Castiel asks Dean to do the unthinkable - to take up the blade to torture Alastair, to become again what he left behind in the Pit.  Will it break them both of them?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on the events of s04e16 "On the Head of a Pin." I have changed the flow of events from the episode to tighten up the plot, and I manipulated the timeline a lot to include flashbacks of Dean and Castiel's time in hell.
> 
> I wanted to play with the timeline and perspective to highlight the parallels between characters as the story unfolds. Let me know if it is too confusing. I wanted to keep the sequence a little off balance throughout and then hopefully bring the threads together at the end. But I don't want it to feel too random either. Not sure if I got it right. Comments and feedback are awesome.

_There has to be a limit,_ he thought watching through the dirty square of glass. _The human can only endure so much. Even this human must have a limit. Even the righteous man must have a point where he would be broken beyond repair._ Castiel turned away. 

It made him sick to see Dean pick up the blade. _I did this to him._ The angel clenched his fists at his sides as he struggled to control this new wave of anger. _It is not my place to question the will of heaven._ But the angel felt angry that there was no better way, that these were the orders he must obey.

The demon scream cut him. His anger melted to pain. Castiel felt nothing for Alastair. He would have gladly killed him with his own hand, without an ounce of empathy for the agony of the damned creature he would cast into the void. 

No, the pain he felt was for Dean. For what he had asked him to do. For what it cost Dean to do it. 

_How can this be right? How can this serve the Father’s will?_ Castiel shuddered as his doubts found voice in his mind for first time. They rose up into his consciousness with clarity he had not yet allowed himself.

Castiel had been there. Seen it with his own eyes. And still he had asked this of Dean. Was he any better than that thing on the rack now? How could he be. The angel felt dirty and shameful for the first time in his long memory. _This is not right._

++++++++++

Dean looked into the black eyes of Alastair. He fought the vomit rising into his throat. He closed his eyes, and pushed back the fear. He’d done this before, he could do it now. _Just don’t think about it. Just breathe._

Alastair smiled. His eyes danced with violence and perversion. 

Dean sucked in a breath. The blade ripped into his side. He gagged against his own scream as Alastair twisted the blade deeper, drawing it across Dean’s abdomen in a slow deliberate path. Dean shuddered on the rack as Alastair laid open his flesh. Dean had endured this a thousand times, a hundred thousand cuts, but the agony was still fresh and blinding though his screams had faded and his fight had long since fled. 

“You know, boy, you can end this anytime.” Alastair leaned in close to Dean’s face, whispering in his ear.

Dean’s teeth were clenched, he did not trust himself to speak, but shook his head defiantly even as he sucked in ragged, desperate breaths, riding through the waves of pain overwhelming him.

Alastair smiled. He stroked Dean’s face, tenderly. His fingers traced Dean’s tight lips and trailed down his neck. With the lightest touch he let his hand glide against Dean’s collar bone, and then return to circle his ear. It was the tender touch of lovers. Dean shuddered against it, a pain filled wail escaping his lips. There was no part of his body that this thing did not know. There was no part of him that remained unscarred, unsoiled by that touch.

“Very well,” Alastair plunged his other hand into Dean’s guts, dragging out a length of intestine as Dean’s screams exploded against this new pain. “I don’t mind either way, boy.”

Dean panted and gagged on the blood filling his mouth. His arms and legs shook violently in his chains. His eyes were closed, but he could still see Alastair’s face, huge in his mind. The familiar words taunted him as the agony overwhelmed his being.

“I’ll put my blade down, if you pick it up.”

Tears streamed down Dean’s face. He choked, he could scream no more. His was rigid, muscles strained tight by pain, paralyzed by unimaginable agony as he felt the hand continue to tear his body apart from the inside. “No.” His voice was a tight pained grunt, barely human language at all. He could say no more, he could do no more as the torture continued. He heard Alastair laugh as he faded into the insanity and darkness of his suffering.

++++++++++

“He can’t do this…” Sam swallowed as he paced the hotel room wringing his hands in worry and dread. 

“Sam…he can handle himself.”

“No! Listen. He can’t do this. He’s not strong enough. Not since hell.” Sam stopped and faced Ruby, his face was pain and fear and pleading. “He needs me, Ruby.”

She said nothing as she watched the tears roll down his face. She closed the space between them, put her arms around him. She held him close as he continued to weep. “He’s my brother. He needs me. I have to try,” Sam sobbed into her hair as his tall body melted into the demon’s embrace. “Please…” 

Ruby was surprised as she felt tears well up in her own eyes as she tried to sooth him. She didn’t fully understand her connection to Sam, the strength of her empathy for this man’s suffering, her desire to protect him and shield him from harm. The depth of emotion she felt could almost be love. _Can a demon love? What is this?_ She wondered as she stroked his hair. “Sam, it’s okay. I’ll help you. Just breathe, Sammy.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had no anger left in him as he looked at the table, full of instruments of torture. _This is what I’m good for,_ he thought bitterly, _this is what I’ve become._

Castiel stood behind him. He was talking about the devil’s trap, but Dean didn’t listen. He felt tired. He was just so goddamn tired.

“I can’t do this,” Dean interrupted. “Cas, you can’t ask me to do this…” He turned to look into the angel’s eyes. His friend’s eyes. Dean’s face was calm, but his eyes were desperate – begging, pleading. 

“I know it is difficult to understand…” Castiel struggled to find words. His own mind struggled to understand the course that was now before them. “You are our best hope, Dean.”

“No. Not this.” Dean’s eyes betrayed the panic in his soul as he turned away. He knew he could not escape the angels. Uriel stood smirking by the door. Others from the garrison surround the building. Even if Castiel didn’t rise up to fight him, even if his friend dared defend him, there were too many others. He couldn’t escape. 

Uriel laughed. His rich voice, cold with hatred, “Yes. You will do this, human.”

“I get it, you’re all powerful sons of bitches, and you can make me do anything you want,” Dean’s voice was bordering on hysteria, fear and anger and despair gushed out of him.

“But you can’t make me do this!” Dean cried as he rounded on Castiel, searching his face. _You know…You saved me from this once before…how can you ask me to do this again. It would have been better if you had left me in the Pit!_

Tears sparkled in his eyes as he yelled, “No!” His voice broke, barely a whisper now as he continued to meet the angel’s piercing blue eyes, “No, Cas, not this.”

“This is too much to ask. I know.” Castiel hated that this was his task. He hated that he was to become the fresh instrument of Dean’s torture. _If there was any other way…If I could…_ He broke eye contact, he could no longer look Dean in the eyes. “But I have to ask it.”

Uriel laughed at both of their anguish. “Castiel, you are growing soft, brother. Orders are orders. One might even find reason question your loyalty.” There was an undercurrent of threat in the words as he turned and left the room.

Dean breathed easier with Uriel gone. “Listen, man. What is this? What’s going on?” he asked. Dean was close to Castiel now. He put a hand on his shoulder. “You can’t be serious… about this.” He searched the blue eyes before him. They were cold, the angel said nothing. Dean turned back, losing hope as he faced the steel door, his eyes fixed on the dirty glass window.

“Dean, my orders are clear. There is no other way.” He pushed down his empathy for this man whom he considered a friend. Castiel was a good soldier. He would do the right thing, as he always had.

“You ask me to open that door and walk through it…” Dean swallowed back the tears that threatened to choke him. “You will not like what walks back out.”

“For what it’s worth…” Castiel also was forced to swallow back his emotions as he spoke, the slightest quiver remained in his voice. “I would give anything not to have you do this.” 

++++++++++

The pain blinded him as he writhed in the chains. He had no thoughts, nothing. He wasn’t angry or afraid, just tired. Empty. He wasn’t even human anymore. He was barely animal as he felt the knife sliding between his skin and muscle. He felt cold as his skin was peeled back from his legs. _Cold in hell, who’d have thought._

He wasn’t Dean anymore. He hadn’t been for a long time. He was just meat, meat carved and cut and roasted. He couldn’t die, he’d tried. His endless suffering would go on without escape forever and ever. He’d already endured a lifetime. _If you could call this endurance…_

Alastair whistled a tune as he continued to skin the meat tied to the rack in front of him. Dean’s blood splashed around the demon’s feet as he worked. The boy was tough. Tougher than he’d expected. But Alastair could feel him growing weaker. _It won’t be long now. There is always a limit. A human can only endure so much, even this human. Soon, he’ll be broken beyond repair._ The inevitability of it made Alastair smile again.

++++++++++

His gagging screams overwhelmed Dean with a cold deadness. The motions were precise, practiced. He had done this a thousand times, a hundred thousand times. The knife twisted deeper into his gut. Alastair screamed again as Dean poured more holy water down his throat. Dean watched the demon’s agony, but somehow he knew his own was the deeper pain. 

Alastair smiled into the face of his torturer. “I respect the professionalism,” he laughed and spat blood as Dean backed away. “You really do have a gift, my boy. It almost makes me proud that you learned so much from us. The student becomes equal to the master.” 

Dean turned his face to hide the tear that slide down his face. He pushed down the shame. He pushed down the pain. He was empty. He was on automatic as he prepared the salt for the demon’s wounds. This is what he was good for after all. He tried to hide away whatever part of himself remained. Though he doubted there was much left of who he had been. He was just an empty shell as he continued the work.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam gripped the wheel of the Impala tighter in his sweaty hands as he drove through the darkness. _It’s not right!_ He felt anger rising up in him, he throat was tight with silenced screams and unshed tears.

Sam had always been a believer. He’d thought there was right and wrong, good and evil. He’d prayed, he’d stood up to fight for the cause, because it was just. He had tried to do the right thing. But now…

 _I beg for demon blood so I can go up against angels._ He hated himself for how dirty he’d become. He felt like there was nothing left of who he had been.

 _It doesn’t matter. There are no good guys. There’s just me and my brother._ The bitterness of his disillusion sharpened his focus. He’d do anything for Dean because if there was anyone good in heaven or on earth it was his brother. Dean was the good soldier. The hero and protector of the world. Dean would lay himself down for Sam, for their dad, for the greater good, no matter what it cost him. 

_All I have to do to help him is betray what he fights for…_ Sam disgusted himself. He couldn’t imagine that Dean would ever look at him again if he knew what he’d done. Sam knew this truth would hurt Dean, he hoped Dean would never know. But there was no line he wasn’t willing to cross to save his brother. There was no line he hadn’t crossed…

 _It doesn’t matter. There are no good guys. There’s just surviving. Whatever it takes._ Sam tried to push down his emotions as he drove faster into the darkness. _Dean needs me. He can’t do this alone. Not again._

++++++++++

Castiel was alone now. His heart was full of dread. He hated this place, this mission. He wanted nothing more than to turn and fly in the opposite direction. This place was slowly eating away at him. He could feel the edges of his grace, frayed and raw, as he moved forward. Always forward. There would be no retreat for him, he was a good soldier. He was ready to lay down his life for this cause, as had his brothers and sisters before him. The mission was more important than anything. They could not fail.

He wasn’t sure what had happened to the others as they had crossed the veil into hell. They had fought like righteous warriors. Demons fell to ash as their grace pushed against the hordes of hell. Yet as Castiel moved beyond the fray, deeper into the darkness, searching for the righteous man, his brothers had not followed. He did not know their fate, nor could he foresee how he alone could succeed in the mission before him. His only comfort in this place was his belief that his Father’s will would be accomplished in all things. His Father had chosen this Dean Winchester, and had chosen Castiel to rescue him.

Castiel pushed through the fear as he moved now with greater urgency. There was no time. It had been too long already. He could not afford to fail heaven, to fail his Father, to fail the righteous man. Even if he was the last of the angelic host, he must advance.

++++++++++

Alastair gagged and grunted as he coughed up blood from his destroyed throat. Then, slowly a smile spread across his bloody lips. “This reminds me of…”

“Shut up.” Dean’s voice was cold as he salted the blade.

“You don’t even know how bad it was. In hell. How much you helped us…You were more than I’d dreamed.”

“Shut up. I’ll enjoy cutting out your tongue.” He smiled at the demon, but it was a lie. He wouldn’t enjoy it. He didn’t enjoy it. He felt himself dying all over again with each cut. He didn’t feel sorry for Alastair. The demon deserved this and more. But Dean took no pleasure in the pain he so skillfully inflicted. 

“You did enjoy it, Dean. Do you remember? Every night the same offer…”

Dean’s face was blank. _How could I forget?_ He deserved every punishment that Alastair did for the things he had done in the pit. He wasn’t any better than them. Not anymore.

“The first time you picked up my razor.” Alastair smiled, crooning as he remembered. “The first time you sliced into that weeping bitch. That was the first seal. That is what started all this.”

“You’re lying.” Dean looked into his face. 

“And it is written,” Alastair spoke with authority, his eyes pierced deep into Dean’s soul, sharper than his blade ever had, “that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break.”

Dean turned away after a long minute. His mind reeling as he thought, remembered. _No. No. It’s not true._ He was afraid.

“We had to break the first seal before any others. Only way to get the dominoes to fall right.” Dean took in a shuddering breath, tears welling up in his eyes as he processed Alastair’s words. “Topple the one at the front of the line.” 

_It can’t be. No._ He felt the crushing weight of his own shame fall upon him as Alastair continued. “When we win… When we bring on the apocalypse and burn this earth down…we’ll owe it all to you…Dean Winchester.”

Dean’s lips trembled, he closed his eyes as tears escaped him. It was true. Somewhere deep down he knew it. It was true. He clenched his jaw, tried to breathe. He felt himself crumbling. Losing that frail hold on life he’d had. He was the cause of all this death and suffering. He was worse than this thing. He’d not only betrayed himself in the pit, but he’d betrayed his world, his brother. The hole inside him gaped wider than ever, sucking all that was left of Dean Winchester back into the enteral suffering of hell. He gripped the knife tighter in his hand and turned to do what he did best.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel gripped the table in front of him so tightly, his knuckles were white. He tried to block out the groans and screams coming from beyond the steel door. _This is wrong. Where is my Father in all this suffering? How could torture be the will of God? Something is wrong. This is not right._

He sensed Uriel close behind him. He felt afraid. _How strange. He is my brother. I have served with him, fought beside him for millennia. And now, I feel his presence strange and unsettling._ Castiel was confused. He was a good solider, loyal, unafraid of battle. But now, in the presence of his brother, an angel of the Lord, he was afraid.

“Castiel, do you feel it?” Uriel’s rich voice was in his ear. Castiel slowly turned. “Something is wrong. We are held back from our true destiny.”

Questions and doubt crossed Castiel’s face as he listened to his brother’s words. He said nothing.

“We are no longer given our rightful place. These mud monkeys are set to lord over us though our power could crush them.”

“But…” Castiel was shocked at Uriel’s words. “It is the will of our Father. He loves them. They are his creation, his children.”

“Are we not his creation?!” Uriel cried out. Anger surged through his grace. “Are we not as superior to these insects as we are to the demons we lay to waste!”

“Brother, you are close to blasphemy…” Castiel stepped back.

“Castiel, there is something wrong in heaven. God is no longer just. Our father has lost his way…”

“This is blasphemy!”

“You do not even know him! It is time that we his sons, his firstborn, should take our rightful place as masters!” Uriel reached out and firmly laid his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. 

“No!” Castiel recoiled from the touch. He was flooded with confusion and fear. _What is happening!_ “You go too far, brother. You will fall if you do not turn back now to the mercy of our Father.”

“Castiel, wake up! Our father is old and weak. If he ever even was our father, he is no longer. His time is over, our time is now! Our orders from our superiors are to bring the end. Lucifer will rise up to his rightful place among the archangels; together we shall crush the arrogance of this world and bring these humans under our feet as we are brought into our glory.”

 _My God, my God! No._ Castiel’s mind raced, he felt himself breaking under the confusion, the horror of it all. _This is wrong. I cannot do this, it is not right._

“Brother, will you take these orders and join us?” Uriel tensed, preparing to attack. “Or must I waste you into the void?”

Time froze for Castiel. He was spinning through darkness. The certainty upon which he had built his life was crumbling. He had never seen the Father. He had never questioned his brothers. He was a good soldier. Now…he considered disobedience. Either choice before him was disobedience. He would betray his brothers or deny his God. He felt afraid. He felt confused. He felt doubt. _Give me orders!_ He prayed to his Father. _Tell me what to do!_ He needed direction – He had no practice thinking for himself. He had no experience in the complexity of the gray. _Uriel is wrong. I cannot follow him down this path. I cannot._ He was now beyond the black and white of right and wrong. If he was to disobey heaven, where would his loyalty fall? For what would he fight in this nebulous world where both angels and demons sought to raise Lucifer from hell to usurp the throne of God! It was beyond him.

“All you have to do is be unafraid.” Uriel extended his hand to Castiel, the hope of comradery still gleaming in his eyes, even as his body tensed to fight.

Clarity dawned for Castiel. He did not know the will of God, but he made his choice. “For the first time in a long time,” he met Uriel’s eyes with righteous fire, “I am unafraid.” 

++++++++++

“Stop. Just stop!” His voice was strong. He surprised himself with the clarity of it.

Alastair turned back to Dean’s bloody carcass broken on the rack. “You know how to make it stop, Dean. You are the only one who can stop this. Are you ready to take up my blade?”

“Just stop.” His voice was strong, but he was broken. It was too much, he’d tried so hard to think of Sammy, to remember why he was here, to think of the good. But those memories were so faded he couldn’t hold on to them anymore. He only wanted it to stop. He only wanted the pain to stop. He’d reached the limit. He was broken beyond repair. “I’ll do it. Just stop this. No more.”

Alastair’s rich high laugh burned Dean’s ears as he felt the chains fall away from his arms and legs. Standing beside the rack that had been his whole existence for years, decades, his body was suddenly whole again. But his soul was still a bloody heap. Alastair was beside him, an arm snaked around his shoulder. “My boy, I’m so proud.” The demon whispered in Dean’s ear as a woman was strapped to the rack in his place. “I knew this day would come.” He pressed the blade into Dean’s hand. Dean’s fingers closed around the cool handle. 

He stood beside the woman. She was weeping. Dean didn’t speak. He couldn’t look at her. She begged. He closed his ears to her cries. He closed his eyes as hot tears dripped down his face. He raised his hand. He brought the blade down, his arm trembled as she screamed, but he continued to cut her flesh even as he wept. Alastair stood by laughing as he watched Dean Winchester finally shatter.

++++++++++

Alastair smiled as he saw the water drip onto the devil’s trap that held him. He didn’t know who was helping him, but he knew it was not an accident. _Maybe God is on my side_. He laughed, silently stepping free from his chains, just as Dean turned to face him.


	5. Chapter 5

_Joy? Is that even possible here?_ Castiel was confused as he approached the door. _This is not joy_ , the angel reflected. _It is relief, or hope._ He had almost forgotten what hope felt like. He had nearly given up hope years ago, for so long now duty alone had pushed him on. But now…

When he pushed through the door, he broke. Even for hell where the atmosphere was despair and suffering, the horror of this room was a new nightmare. Blood flowed dark and thick along the floor. The walls were spattered with the same. The screaming of the bloodied form on the rack pierced his grace leaving the angel in physical pain. 

_No. No…_ He shook himself as he approached the rack. _No, I have failed my Father. I am too late._ Tears flowed from the angels weary eyes. _It is too late. God, have mercy. I am too late to save the Righteous Man._

Dean seemed to sense him. He did not turn toward Castiel, but he stopped his carving. His arms fell limply to his side, his hand still clutching the jagged blade. Castiel studied him. _The righteous man covered in the blood of another, wielding the blade of a demon! How have I failed so completely in this mission._ Castiel hated himself, he prayed to God that he may yet find a path to redemption though he doubted even his merciful Father could forgive this failure. 

Castiel slowly approached the man, Dean Winchester. Dean did not turn, but his shoulders visibly tightened and his head dropped as the angel came near. 

“Who are you?” Dean’s voice was rough and quiet. 

“I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord.”

“Huh.” There was surprise in Dean’s eyes as he slowly turned. Castiel sensed the tiniest spark of hope rise in the desolate soul of this man. “Can you kill me? I know I’m already dead, but will you destroy me?”

Now Castiel was surprised as he looked at Dean. “No. I will not harm you.” Disappointment flashed across Dean’s face as the angel continued, “I have come to save you. But…” He did not know how to put his failure and the pain of his loss and sorrow and shame into words. 

“You’re a decade too late for saving…” Dean turned away from the angel, back to the man on the rack. 

Castiel broke with sorrow as he saw Dean’s shoulders trembling with silent sobs. _I am sorry. Oh, God, I am sorry._ The angel stood behind him. He laid a strong hand on the broken man’s bare shoulder, to comfort him, to heal. “Dean, I am sorry. You do not have to suffer here anymore.” Castiel’s grace surged through Dean, but Dean turned his face away weeping.

“I’m not worth saving…” tears flowed from his eyes, mingling with the blood on his chest as they fell. 

“The blame for this does not fall on you. Please…” the angel pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion.

“Can’t you see? I belong here. This is what I am now,” Dean’s tears stilled, his voice was dry and dead with hopelessness and self-loathing.

“You do not have to stay here. You have been chosen by God. You are the righteous man destined to save the world.”

“Righteous man?” Dean’s voice rang with bitter laughter. “Me? No way. I’m nothing but a broken empty shell, a hollow man, if I’m still a man at all.”

“I am sorry, Dean.” Castiel could not heal this shattered soul, but he still saw the shadows of goodness in him. Even now, even like this, Dean Winchester was the Righteous Man, Castiel had no doubts. _He must be saved. I must bring him out. I must protect him. He is our only hope now. He can be healed..._ Hope was all the angel had left. His belief that his Father held all things, even this, would carry them both out of this broken hole. 

“Dean, let us leave this place.” Castiel stepped back, his arm still on Dean’s shoulder, leading him out.

Dean shook off Castiel’s grip and turned back to the rack. Castiel was confused, uncertain what to do. Could he force Dean out of hell? Should he? 

He took a hesitant step toward Dean, then the angel froze. Dean stood over the bloody man still moaning on the rack. Dean lifted the blade still clutched in his hand and brought it down to the victim, cutting the ropes holding his arms. He cut the bindings from his ankles as well. The knife clattered to the floor. As Dean lifted the man from the rack, and laid him on the floor, smoothing the bloody hair from his eyes, Dean did not speak. But his hollow eyes begged for forgiveness or mercy for those things he could not undo.

“Come!” Castiel gripped Dean’s shoulder, his grace pouring into the righteous man hoping God would allow his healing grace to undo those things Dean should not have suffered. “We are leaving. Now.” Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean as his wings unfurled lifting them both from hell.

++++++++++

The fist connected with Dean’s face. Bone crushed beneath the powerful blows. _This is good._ He felt himself sliding into unconsciousness. _I deserve this. I am to blame for this._ His spirit craved punishment. He leaned into the blow with the failing strength he had left. He spit teeth from his bloody mouth as he finally crumpled to the ground. _Don’t stop. Just end me._ He hated himself. Truly, he was a monster – for what he had done in the pit. For what he had done in this room. For ever imagining that he could be one of the good guys, that he was somehow worthy of redemption. He belonged in hell. And he was going back. 

Alastair’s powerful hand closed around Dean’s neck as he lifted him from the ground. He was pressed against the rack, choking for air, gagging on his own blood as the hands closed tighter on his throat.

“You still have a lot to learn, boy. So I’ll see you back in class, bright and early Monday morning.” Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head, his life slipping away as Alastair held him. He was afraid. He didn’t want to go back… _but I deserve it._ But he could no longer hold the shattered pieces of his soul together. He felt himself falling into blackness.

++++++++++

Castiel braced himself as Uriel sprang on him. The powerful fist collided with Castiel’s jaw. He returned the blow as the two angels fought. Their strength was equally matched, but Uriel had the advantage of violence. Castiel held back. He did not wish to harm his brother. Even if he had blasphemed and fallen from grace, Castiel’s heart was not in the fight. He was a soldier who had lost his taste for battle. Uriel sensed it. He smiled as his fist broke Castiel’s nose, and his grace dropped him to his knees. 

“Castiel, you have grown soft.” Uriel laughed as he stood over him, punches continuing to fall on Castiel’s face. “Where is the warrior I knew?”

“You may kill me, but you cannot win. I still fight for God!” Castiel felt clear, free from confusion for the first time in a long time. _This is right._

Uriel smirked. “We will win. Even now, the demon does my bidding. The apocalypse is coming. Lucifer will rise.” Each sentence was punctuated with another blow.

“The righteous man will stop you, the power of God will yet be revealed,” Castiel’s voice was clear and strong, even as he felt the vessel’s body breaking.

“The righteous man will die this night, and then I shall slay the demon who has killed him.” Uriel raised his head in triumph and laughed.

 _What? No._ Castiel looked to the steel door, to the dirty glass window. _Dean! Have I failed you again? God help me, not again!_ With renewed strength he rose up, he took hold of Uriel’s neck and flew, forcing the angel down. Castiel rolled as his momentum also carried him to the floor. He sprang again to his feet. 

“This ends now,” Uriel said, his eyes flashing with cruelty. An angel blade materialized in his hand. 

“What? It was you?” realization that this blade, not demon claws had killed his brothers and sisters shook Castiel with a fresh wave of grief. “You have betrayed not only your God, but also your kin?”

Castiel let out a battle cry as Uriel lunged forward with the blade. Castiel was quick, his righteous anger and the zeal of his duty to protect the righteous man multiplied his strength. He twisted the blade out of Uriel’s hand as the two angels struggled. He had no doubts as he plunged the sword into Uriel’s neck. 

Castiel said a prayer, for mercy on his brother’s soul. Blood still ran down Castiel’s face, his lungs burned as he struggled to catch his breath from the exertion of battle. He could not slow. He pushed himself onward. _There is not much time. Get up! You must save him. You cannot fail him again!_ Castiel struggled to his feet and through the steel door toward the next battle, toward Dean.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam stood in the middle of the dark room. His brother’s broken body at his feet. Castiel bloodied and gasping to his right. Alastair pinned to the wall in front of him. His blood was running hot with hatred and violence as he curled his fingers into a fist. Alastair gasped for air, gagging and groaning as this new torture began. 

Sam pushed harder with his mind, digging deeper in to the demon. Alastair looked afraid for the first time. “No. Please…Arggghh, let me go.” Sam showed no mercy as he tore into him, Alastair’s eyes rolled back as he continued to beg. 

Castiel struggled to his feet, his eyes wide with fear. _This is not good._ He wasn’t sure which was worse, Sam Winchester’s ungodly power, Dean’s lifeless body, or the demon whose cries were turning to a sick laughter. He shook himself, trying to clear the blood from his face. He could not look away from Sam as he raised his hand again and demanded Alastair’s confession.

“We didn’t kill your stupid angels. If it had been Lilith, if it had been us, we wouldn’t have killed seven of them…we would have killed a hundred, a thousand…go ahead, boy, send me back.”

“Oh, I’m stronger than that now. I’m not going to send you back. I’m going to kill.”

Castiel’s face when white as Sam stretched out his hand toward Alastair. Dark energy flowed from Sam into the demon and unholy fire consumed it. Castiel shuddered as his gaze moved between Sam and Alastair’s charred form. He struggled to accept the truths being revealed. _What is going on? What is the right thing? Can a demon speak truth? Could angel speak lies? Can love for a brother be so full of darkness? Have I failed the righteous man again? Where is my Father? Where is the will of God in all of this suffering? What will I do now?_

++++++++++

Castiel was tired. Weary as he slumped in the chair next to Dean’s hospital bed. He was weak, almost as depleted as he had been when he and Dean had finally burst through the veil escaping hell. He was more afraid now than he had been when he was lost and alone in the pit. He did not doubt what he had done. He had sent Uriel to face God’s righteous judgment. He had disobeyed heaven’s orders, but he believed he had followed the will of his Father. 

He did not know with certainty, but he believed. Doubt was there, but so was his faith. He would wander in the gray of this uncertainty. He was afraid. He looked to the couch where Sam’s too tall body was stretched out, legs sticking off the end, body twisted in fitful sleep. There were many unknowns. He did not know if Sam was an instrument of good or a weapon of the evil one. 

_Maybe he is neither._ Castiel considered this new idea. _Maybe he is just a broken boy, trying to save his brother. How can such a person be good or evil? He is just hurt. Lost._ These thoughts felt unfamiliar to the angel, but he felt a truth in them that gave him a small measure of comfort. _Like me. I’m just a broken angel who loves my Father, and is lost in a world with no right answers._ This confession filled his grace with an unexpected lightness. _The truth will set you free._

Castiel was free to make his own choices for the first time in his existence. He had no orders dictating his next course. He had no commander except his own conscience as he moved forward into the unknown and perilous future. But he felt a peace he had not known for a long time. _This is right._ He would continue to seek God. He would pray and wait for wisdom. 

In the meantime, his mission was clear to him. He would help Dean knit the broken pieces of his soul back together, not for the cause or fate or to stop the apocalypse, but just because Dean was good and deserved to find peace. He would protect this righteous man from those who sought to use him. He would try to atone for his own failures, for the damage done, some of these scars he himself had inflicted on Dean’s soul. He didn’t know if that would even be possible. He did not know if Dean would want him, after what he’d asked of him, what he’d gone through. _I must try. Dean Winchester is worth saving._

This new truth brought a sad smile to the tired angel’s face. He looked at his friend – the broken body mirroring the damaged soul. Whatever comes, from heaven or from hell, Castiel would stand with Dean. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. Is the timeline/perspective jumping too random? 
> 
> Also, wondering if you think I should add Dean's perspective to the end....I was working on it, but then I cut it out on the revision. Dean's perspective makes it a much less "happy-ish" ending. Which may or may not be a bad thing.


End file.
